something borrowed, something untrue

i soaked myself in brine for a decade
i wrung my hands and my eyes
i walked a thousand miles on my knees
just to
just to

when i was young i heard the lonely wail of the train's horn
it was the touchstone of sleep
it was the blanket being placed over my small form
i don't hear it as much anymore.

i think i've lost something
i think i've been walking around in a dream

there was an orchard and i would climb the gnarled branches of the trees
and under a great willow by the river there was a sheltered mead
(if only i could get there)

tell me your grief and i will tell you mine

the garden was full of magical beings
the rabbit that lived there was my dear friend
i named every patch of grass and the spaces between the rocks
i hid in secret places and had picnics and dreamt

fairies and unicorns are real
they live among us still, if you want to look

tears well up in my eyes when i hear joyful songs
i go to sleep after washing up, feeling rubbed clean like a pebble on a beach
waves wash over my feet and i ask to be forgiven
i pull the covers over my head

i live in the dark and i sit on the bathroom floor
praying for something

i was one digit old when i taught myself the meaning of life
it was dark in the backseat of the car when i thought of love
and the world opened up to receive me
and the streetlights passed silently
and the moon was following me
and the songs i listened to meant something about my life to come

tell me my grief and i will tell you yours

i grow old
i grow old
i grow old

one day you think
you were born with something rotten inside you
and the next, you hear someone say
thank god for you. thank god for people like you.